Operation: Stop Oliver
by brainchild
Summary: Oliver Wood had always made girls go a little crazy. The twins just decided to help push them over the edge. But it was really all Angelina's idea. '09 Fic Exchange


This was the Fic Exchange Prompt, that I absolutely misread as "MUST contain slash." And this is actually my first slash fic!:

Main characters: Oliver Wood, Fred & George Weasley

Main ship: Oliver/Original Character

Genres: Romance and Humour

Rating: PG or PG-13

No slash

"All I want for Christmas is you"; a catastrophe/incident involving a Weasley Wizard Wheezes product.

* * *

**The Insane Love Medley to Win Oliver Wood **

**(who was too dense to notice anyway)**

The dangerous thing about being Oliver Wood's mate was that you could never be sure when a previously normal girl would all of the sudden turn crazy. One day, minding your own business at lunch, you might have a perfectly fine conversation with a lovely fifth year girl about Charms homework (or more likely about how to get away with turning it in with a tiny burn mark in the corner that no, you did not want to explain); the next, she'd have crazy big eyes as she asked you _one more time_ if Oliver had really just wanted to talk to you about Quidditch or if he had really asked you about her because he liked her and was trying to work up the courage to ask her out. Because you should tell her if he liked her. You really, really should. _She _knew they were soul mates, so it would be fine. Fine.

Oliver himself never noticed.

No, the Scotsman would give a thoughtless nod or a wave at whoever you were talking to, without really understanding that they never took it as it was intended: indistinct politeness direct at all non-Quidditch-related things.

Most of his mates were used to this by now. It had been happening since first year, after all, and wasn't likely to change as he got older. Now, Fred and George Weasley weren't his normal mates, though, and they liked fixing things. (Well, all right, maybe not 'fixing' things so much as 'improving,' and that only as long as you defined improving as making more entertaining.)

"Well, he's ruined Katie Bell," Fred said, walking past the wall in their room that divided Lee and their things from everyone else's. (McGonagall had overreacted to a minor incident in third year that melted _one trunk_ and suddenly they had their own private workspace. It was brill.)

"Katie always seemed like such a sensible girl," George said sadly, tilting his head to the side as if the angle of his view was the reason the gelatinous grey glob on the table didn't look like the squeaking rubber duck it was supposed to be. And maybe it was, because he took a lot of notes after a moment.

"So did Sarafina Giadi, before—"

"We agreed not to talk about that," George said, poking the grey mass, and suddenly it was yellow and had a very duck-like bill.

"That was before he ruined Katie Bell," Fred said, scanning the open notebook on the table. With a concentrated wand wave, the yellow-blob-with-a-bill became a plain wood wand. Both twins were mightily impressed with that. Then George picked it up and it exploded yellow goo all over them and their stuff and that wall that McGonagall had said would survive the apocalypse, while giving them a very stern look that _others_ might not have interpreted as a challenge.

"Well, that settles it," George said, wiping his eyes, "we should fix Oliver's love life."

"We're very selfless," Fred noted, using those handy cleaning spells he made sure his mother never knew he knew.

So they set about rather subtly making changes—tossing unsuspecting girls at Oliver in the hopes that he would pick one and start dating, officially stopping the other girls from going crazy. Unfortunately, Oliver seemingly refused to get with the program as he kept sizing the girls up as chasers or back up seekers while ignoring anything they said that didn't involve Quidditch.

"This is pathetic," George said, slumping in his seat in the common room as Oliver ignored one girl who was _literally unbuttoning her shirt _to get his attention. "I doubt he'd notice she was naked if she was holding a snitch."

Fred leaned back, tilting his head. "Maybe we're going about this the wrong way. Maybe we shouldn't be helping the girls. Maybe we should just make them more amusing."

Which was such a solid plan, they went forward with it immediately. And after very little deliberation, they brought Angelina in on it. ("Don't want her accidentally pranked. Last time—" "No. No. Don't say it . It'll only anger her.") Being the classy girl she was, Angelina did not slap them, but instead helped them come up with ways to make the prank _better_. Fred clearly fell in love with her.

"I'm serious. They invented these things with illegal love potions that make blokes associate their feelings about whatever the thrower says with that person," Angelina was telling a group of younger girls the day Operation: Make Oliver's Ladies Drool (M.O.L.D.) went into action. "I had to confiscate them all."

"That sounds complicated," a dubious one said, which made her the one Fred liked least.

"It's not. Watch. You just have to make sure you're the first thing they see." Angelina moved over to where a seventh year named Josh (who had to be brought in since the twins would have been suspect) was bent over a book in the corner of the room and tossed a Sparking Miniature Octagonal Killer Exploders (S.M.O.K.E.) bomb at his feet, which exploded in a very impressive, expressive way while she yelled. "Baguettes!"

Josh made a show of shaking his head, but not acknowledging the smoke. He wasn't the best actor, but Angelina assured the twins the young girls would be impressed by his looks, which Fred thought were pretty mediocre, to be honest.

"Angelina, did you say something?" Josh turned, and she made sure she was about an inch way from his face. "Oh! Hi. Is that a new perfume? You smell delicious."

"Thanks," Angelina said when he pulled her into his lap and began kissing her hand. Fred would talk with him about overselling it later.

The girls she had been talking to were gaping. But Josh wasn't done: "Would you like to go to Hogsmeade with—"

"I want a dozen!" yelled the little black-haired girl who was clearly the ringleader, and the twins' favorite.

So there were exactly four people who were not surprised when a fourth year Hufflepuff tossed a S.M.O.K.E. bomb at Oliver's feet at dinner that night and yelled, "Chaser!" while invading his personal space.

Oliver just sort of stared blankly. "You want to be a Chaser?"

George was grinning. "This is going to be so much fun."

"SEEKER!" The shriek resounded through the Great Hall, as a third year launched herself at Oliver in an attempt to make sure she was the first thing he saw. The plan failed when he desperately looked up as if to spot a seeker heading his way.

As Oliver was trying to make his escape, two sixth years joined the group with similarly timed: "Bludger!"

It was a total of nine girls who made the valiant attempt to win him over with a S.M.O.K.E. bomb, but the grand finale came a few minutes later, when the song the twins had created started blaring through the Great Hall.

"_Oliver Wood, Wood, Wood. Oliver Wood, Wood, would you love me? I'll be the snitch to your Seeker, the hoop to your keeper. I'll cut my hair and buy a broom, I'll be the horse to your groom. Oliver Wood, Wood, would you love me_?"

Angelina was giving them a look that mixed disappointment with pity, which Fred waved off. "It's hard to rhyme broom, okay?"

"Yeah, it was that or tomb or loom, and those were even weirder," George agreed as the song pranced on in the background.

The scene had most people gossiping, but the really clever ones were either glaring suspiciously at the twins (Snape) or trying not to smile at the spectacle (Sprout). McGonagall was much too invested in Quidditch and house loyalty to congratulate them, but they could discern a bit of appreciation in her angry, angry eyes.

"_I'll love you till the end, even if you don't lend… me your heart. I'll be the field to your stands, as I stare at your hands. Oliver Wood, Wood, would you love me?"_

The song stopped with another rousing melody, and Fred wiped a fake tear. "Ah, music."

"More powerful than anything taught here," George said, nodding.

"Hey, mates," Oliver said, quickly squeezing in to sit beside them. "Tell me that was your doing."

"What was?" Fred asked.

George shook his head at his twin. "Too much. You should have gone with denial over ignorance. Clearly we can tell something weird is afoot."

"They can't all actually want to be on the team, can they? I would have to make a second reserve team, and I think the field schedule wouldn't be possible," Oliver said, dodging a girl reaching out for him like a crazed person as the song began anew.

Angelina just buried her face in her hands while the twins shook their heads. "That's what you're most concerned about?"

"We have a really good chance at winning this year," Oliver said, as if he had already forgotten this whole embarrassing meal and the beautiful, beautiful song just because something vaguely Quidditch like was happening.

"We're going to have dial up the drama next time," Fred said.

George nodded. "Maybe if something explodes—"

"Or at least lights up brightly."

A seventh year Ravenclaw bloke sat down backward next to Oliver on the bench, eyeing a girl shimming like mad between their tables. "Oliver, why are all of these girls dancing at you?"

"I think they want to play Quidditch?" Oliver said uncertainly. ("He's _impossible!_")

Two girls tossed S.M.O.K.E. bombs, yelling, "Snitches!" while doing jazz hands.

"In some weird Gryffindor way, I think they might be trying to seduce you," the bloke said, twisting his head to catch the eye of the Scottish Keeper, who practically blushed.

"No. No. That's ridiculous. Why would they be shimming?"

A smirk grew across the nerdy Ravenclaw's face. "You like it when I shimmy."

Oliver tried to stop his smile, meeting the bloke's eye. "That's different."

"I certainly hope so," the bloke said, leaning so close that had the twins not been mind blown by the implications of this conversation, they would have started taking bets on whether the two blokes were going to snog in the middle of the Great Hall with this stupid song playing and crazy girls compelled to yell around them. The odds would have been even. "Though I seem to get my way when it happens."

"When I let you," Oliver said equally quiet, because he was somehow oblivious to his gob-smacked audience.

"Maybe tonight it'll be you. And it'll be more… squirming," the Racenclaw said, that smirk still in place as he stood and went back to his table to eat. Oliver didn't look away the whole time, everyone else mostly ignored the S.M.O.K.E. bombs as they gaped at one another.

"That's not _fair_," Katie Bell whined, looking at their captain.

Angelina's eyes were huge. "Fair? That's _fantastic_. Just imagine them together. Wow. Wow. So hot."

Alicia grinned and agreed. "So hot. Oliver's already sexy, and Brody is just that right amount of nerdy hot, and together is just—wow."

"I would pay to watch them make out."

"_Absolutely_."

"He's right there," Lee said incredulously, gesturing at their oblivious captain.

Angelina waved that off. "He's not paying attention. He's thinking about his hot, hot boyfriend."

"As he should be," Katie said, twisting to watch Brody herself. He was sitting at the Ravenclaw table, a self-satisfied look on his face when he and Oliver caught one another's eye. "So hot."

"Well, we played that one wrong," Fred said, throwing a large balloon into the middle of the room, where it exploded and released the antiserum to the compelling potion in the S.M.O.K.E. bombs.

"Absolutely," George agreed, pulling out the notebook. A canary flew out of his bag when he opened it, but he didn't have time to catch it. "Went for the completely wrong demographic."

"Why are you not focusing on how _hot _they were?" Angelina wanted to know.

"And the song needs some work. It's repetitive," George remembered, dipping his quill in ink.

"Next time, let's include fireworks," Fred suddenly thought, and they spent the rest of the meal tweaking their ideas and ignoring the girls. It wasn't anything new for them to be obsessing crazily over the Quidditch captain. And it wasn't new that Oliver didn't notice.

But it was new to know he wasn't always thinking about Quidditch.


End file.
